Black in the Hearth
by TheHabberdashery
Summary: After realizing that the nature of her feelings for Cole have matured Trevelyan ends up taking lectures on spirits from Solas before she is allowed to date his ghost son.
1. Chapter 1

Sun down not twenty minutes ago and Skyhold was already freezing. As she scurried to her quarters Trevelyan thought that for all its breathtaking majesty it could have done with fewer windows. With the door latched securely behind her she shed her gear and donned her night shift as quickly as her slight trembling would allow. The bed was entirely too large but it was warm and that was all that mattered**.**

She laid still for several long moments, silently reminding herself that brooding would only give her wrinkles .Only after regaining feeling in her toes did she notice the shadow boy crouched upon her desk in the corner.

The windowpanes shook with the force of the Inquisitor's shriek. Cole didn't so much as flinch, casually hopping off her desk as though she hadn't nearly died of fright. He didn't seem to think her death rattle required any kind of urgent response. He wiped his nose with his rather dirty sleeve as he waited for her to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry. Did you not want me to be here?" He questioned just as someone began banging on her chamber door. She'd bet a sovereign it was Cullen.

"You wait right there!" She punctuated with a stern finger jab in Cole's direction as she hurried past him down the stairwell. It sounded as though Cullen had begun to ram the door with his shoulder.

"My lady Inquisitor, is all well?!"

"Oh uh, yeah, never better." She replied as she undid the latch. "Are you certain? What was that dreadful screaming?" He was out of breath. No doubt Cullen had sprinted all the way from the war room before assaulting Trevelyan's poor door. It swung open with a peculiar squeaking sound she was certain was new. He was scanning every inch of her for injury and he wasn't being subtle about it.

"Oh erm, a spider startled me." A tight smile settled uncomfortably on her face. Perhaps Leliana would be amenable to giving her some pointers in deceit.

"A spider…" Sweet gullible Cullen sounded bewildered but not disbelieving.

"Yes, I must say I prefer the giant ones." Well it wasn't a lie.

"Well if you should like-"

"Oh no, that's okay" Trevelyan's placing a hand on each of his shoulders. "Anyway, as you can see," she released him and spread her arms wide. "I was off to bed."

"Ah yes." Was his intelligent reply before she shut the door on his face. He even went a little red. "Goodnight Inquisitor." He wished through the wood. She was already halfway up the stairs.

"Cole..." She didn't even know why she bothered lying to Cullen. Suddenly appearing in her chambers was incredibly far from the strangest thing Cole had ever done.

"Yes?" She stumbled on the last step, clinging to the banister.

"You're still here."

"You told me to stay." He replied in that breathy manner of fact voice of his.

"Yes, well…did you need something?" Suddenly the high collar of Trevelyan's shift seemed awfully constricting.

He began to slowly walk the length of her room. "Not really. I just like it in here. I've been here before. This is the first time you've been here too." It was unclear to Trevelyan whether he was entirely unaware of just how awful the implications of what he just said were or if such things simply mattered little to him.

"What do you like about it?" She seated herself back upon her bed. "It's filled with kindness." He looked away, cocked his head, played with his hands. It drew attention to the various bruises and scabs that played across the skin. He was searching for words that would make Trevelyan understand. "Places remember, they…tell me things." His gaze turned to the darkened balcony where the meager glow of the candle at her bedside could not reach. "Out there you laughed with Josephine, you helped her let out some of her worry. And you made friends with Solas too. He needs more friends." Cole moved to sit beside Trevelyan at her gesture. "You made this a happy place."

That simple sentiment hangs in the air for several silent moments. The Inquisitor notices dully that the windows have begun to frost over. Originally she had cared little for these chambers. There were none situated higher than hers. It made for a steeper tumble back to the ground.

"Do you want me to leave?" He had already begun to. She grabbed his hand and pulled him back gently. Her walnut skin made him look sicklier than ever by comparison.

"Cole, you are a precious friend to me. You are always welcome into my home, wherever that may be." He gives a small uncertain smile, tenuous as a doe standing on sleet. She leans forward bumping her forehead softly against his, leaving maybe a hand's length between their faces. It's something playful she used to do with her father. Cole makes her nostalgic.

"But maybe you could allow me some privacy while I attempt to sleep and not freeze to death?" Her mouth quirks.

Cole is looking straight at her, but his eyes are unfocused. _**Listening **_to her instead of listening to her. She braced herself. The last time Cole listened Dorian launched a one man siege upon the Inquisition's wine cellar.

"An extra scarf wrapped around exposed neck and a warning not to catch your death. Steam and drinks that burn your throat, which would burn your fingers if you could feel them. Memories that taunt and tease when everything is so cold the marrow in your bones is screaming and you wonder at what it will feel like, if it will hurt when the Maker takes you…" He paused taking in what must have been a direly needed breath. Trevelyan is suddenly aware of her thumb tracing his knuckles. Muscles tensed unknowingly relax. This is only the most recent time Cole has nearly moved the Inquisitor to tears

Cole comes back to himself. "You were scared, but you were brave." He stands. Waits instead of asking her to release his hand or pulling away.

"Good night Cole. I'll see you tomorrow." It is a whisper, but it fills the whole room. He does not ask her how she knows.

It is a long time before her head rests upon the pillows. From her bed her eyes travel languidly the entire space of the room. Cole is right, it's lovely. The flickering candlelight fails miserably at any attempts to makes the shadows appear foreboding.

Lady Trevelyan was nearly gone to the fade. Her mind wondered freely, in those moments at least, unburdened by the heavy duty scorched into her very skin. She had begun to play the recent events again in her mind starting from the first moment she had entered her chambers. She had a small twitchy feeling of wrongness. Like trying to identify the off key singer in an orchestra. What could it be? What could it- Her eyes snapped open.

Cole had almost certainly seen her naked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Welp, this is chapter 2. It contains my first attempts at action sequences. The first chapter recieved a lot of viewers and even a follower but I would really enjoy feedback. I have no idea whether you guys actually LIKE it. I'll do my best to be responsive!**

**Cole continues to be hard to write.**

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><p>Trevelyan's most important waking ritual consisted of tossing the blankets away and hurling herself bodily to the floor. Otherwise the bed would win. It was just too tempting to lie in the soft warmth and pretend the world didn't rest on her shoulders (or more literally but less metaphorically apt, in her palm). The faint boy smell made it all the more difficult this morning. It reminded her of what seemed a lifetime ago when she could sneak off with some marcher lad without the possibility of Thedas being overrun by demons in her absence.<p>

A sun beam struck the Inquisitor painfully in the eye as she lay on the floor with her ankle still awkwardly entangled in her blankets. She consoled herself with the thought that the day was supposed to be an easy one. Hanging around Skyhold waiting for information from Leliana's people.

The day began in an appropriately lethargic manner. She had just congratulated herself on putting on pants when a very familiar, very unwelcome knock was heard.

"Inquisitor, I have news." Called the red headed anathema to Trevelyan's existence. The groan she emitted was probably audible to Leliana through the door. "I'm coming just let me find some sort of shirt."

It was dark, it was wet, and Trevelyan forgot to bring extra socks. 'To the Void with the Fallow Mire.' Is what she would've said if she could've been bothered to string together a full sentence. She brought along Cole, Solas, and the Iron Bull. A mage was necessary and Dorian would have complained about all the mud "down South" (though she was fairly certain both dirt and water existed in the Imperium). As for Vivienne…it was not a Vivienne sort of day. Cole and Iron bull were by default, all her other warriors and rogues were either otherwise occupied or recuperating from other injuries. She suspected in truth though that the word "mire" was just a very effective repellant.

It had been a sunny day until the group had entered the Mire. The complete absence of birdsong or other sounds of wild life made Trevelyan feel as though she were wrapped in a layer of cotton. And then she heard the sucking noise of one pulling them self from mud. She had thought it Bull, large and heavy as he was. She was looking down at her own feet wanting to avoid the same problem. A hasty "Boss!" from Bull brought her line of vision sharply up.

It was ghastly. A corpse walking, just like Harding had said. The smell of the mire masked its scent. That's how Trevelyan nearly walked into it. Another step and she would've of kissed its lipless death grin. She was shoved aside by a great greyish mass before the Iron Bull cleaved it neatly at the waist. She sat in the mud for a few seconds trying to process all that just happened.

Solas stepped softly next her offering a hand that she gingerly took. "Bull, I do believe it's still a threat." The qunari turned just in time to catch the animated torso's sword with his axe.

"Oh Andraste's fabulous **TITS** that is just weird!" He crushed the corpse's head underfoot frantically. "Will that work?" He turned his eye to Solas. "Yes, that is sufficient. They're corpses possessed, but the demon will leave its host once the head is destroyed because-""So we just gotta crush some skulls?" "…yes." After maybe the fifth corpse the novelty wore off and Trevelyan went back to being miserable. Even the most devoted Andrastrian cursed the existence of wet socks a time or two.

"Oh thank the Maker!" Trevelyan had no idea why there was a gigantic slab of stone on top of a hill but she recognized the sconce bolted onto it. She shifted from foot to foot as Solas went to light it. Veil fire was beautiful, and she was glad for a small reprieve from the gloom, but it was a shame that it didn't actually cast any warmth. She stood for a moment as the oppressive atmosphere lost a little of its edge.

"Yeah, Inquisitor you might want to turn around." Bull said, sounding aggravated which probably meant-

Ah yes, demons. Great green gangly ones. Practiced hands nocked and loosed an arrow at a Terror coming up the slope. She aimed for one spindly leg, their shape made it easy to drop them. Unfortunately as it fell it used the momentum to dive through a small tear in the fade. Trevelyan rolled to the side out of habit, expecting it to reemerge at her feet. Instead it thrust itself out of the greenness even further down the slope. She saw Cole; he had isolated himself trying to pick off the various corpse archers. He had seen the glow, had begun to move. But his shoulder had been caught by one grotesquely thin hand. He had gone sprawling one dagger skidding all the way to the murky water. The demon had opened wide it's maw to release an unearthly wail.

Before an arrow whistled through the air before sticking firmly in its mouth. And then another in its chest. And a final resounding 'thunk' where its genitalia would have been were terror demons anatomically correct. Cole had turned over just in time to see the remnants of the demon fading away in green luminescence. The Inquisitor glanced around, grateful to see that the remainder of the demons had been handled by Bull and Solas. She walked down the slope panting as the adrenaline from the fight wore off. She inquired whether Cole was alright while retrieving her arrows from where the demon once lay.

"…Yes…" His eyes appeared widened under his hat and wild hair. Presumably because this was the first show of competence from Trevelyan all day.

"Hey boss, anything seem...off?" Bull's gaze shifted slightly to Trevelyan's right. Her head turned until she noticed the arrow shaft suspiciously close to her face. What started as a noise of acknowledgement that she did now in fact notice the arrow in her shoulder devolved into a hiss of pain.

"Hold her still." Solas's voice was firm. Iron Bull had her sat on his lap with his arms wrapped around her midsection her elbows stuck at her side. Even then the damn elf kept that measured pace of his. When he did crouch down in front of her she began to struggle. Not like it had any effect whatsoever. There was no count down, no directive to breathe. One moment the arrow was in her shoulder, the next in Solas's hand. He applied a poultice as the white faded from the edges of Trevelyan's vision.

"You're not going to use magic?" She would regret the whiny edge to her voice when she was in less pain. She continued to wriggle pathetically.

"The arrow was wet; there are remnants still in the wound. You'll have to make do until we make camp." Cole joined them silently aside from the dull sound of water droplets hitting the earth. He had apparently retrieved his dagger. Bull released the Inquisitor and she stood with as dignified a grunt as she could manage.

In a rare bout of luck there was an Inquisition camp close by. If you considered luck having to lie down while being subjected to various tools being used to pick bits of soggy wood out of your shoulder. She rotated her arm as they returned to their mission. As an archer it would be annoying but she would be able to handle it. Probably.

If all Avvar were as big as the one she just encountered Trevelyan was well and truly screwed. She ascertained he didn't approve of the challenge issued to the Herald of Andraste, beyond that she was distracted by mental images of the behemoth man grabbing her around the middle with one hand.

When they came upon a straight stretch of dry land that appeared to lead straight to the castle ruins occupied by the Avvar she was immediately suspicious. When the corpses started emerging like flowers in Cloudreach all she felt was a bitter validation. And fear, but that went without saying. They decided to sprint past them by unanimous decision.

Only to be met with some Avvar that were not so content to live and let live as the last. She ignored the sting of her wound and how it grew sharper with every twang of her bow. Trevelyan instead focused on how maker damned ready she was to never see an ounce of mud again. As the rest of the group went about the typical procedure of checking the bodies for valuables she instead turned huffily towards their tents. She was rummaging around like a druffalo so it didn't take long before Solas and Bull were exchanging glances and Cole was openly staring.

"Is there something in particular you are seeking Inquisitor?" Solas wondered if the pain wasn't causing the Inquisitor to behave irrationally (more so than was typical). She emerged with four bundles in her arms tossing one to each of her companions.

"Dry. Socks." Was the reply before she began tearing at her boots. The rest were made suddenly aware of how uncomfortable their shoes actually were. There was a ripping sound as Bull exchanged his pair, but ripped wool trumped wet wool.

Trevelyan's spirit felt much higher right until she heard a bellow. She reached the entrance of the ruins. Ah. Her hopes had risen with every Avvar she encountered. Aside from the first they were of normal human size. The one that was shouting challenge at her was even larger than the Avvar healer.

It was mayhem. He had no less than four archers flanking him. Good ones. She knocked her own arrow. It met the tanned flesh of an Avvar neck. Solas had rushed behind a pillar. He focused on keeping a barrier around Bull. As she moved to make a better shot at the behemoth man she stumbled upon one of the many loose bricks. The arrow that shot past her head sounded like a mosquito's buzzing. She located her assailant just as Cole's daggers tore into his back like an angry mabari's teeth.

Iron Bull was going toe to toe with the mountainous man. Even mid fight his size was baffling to Trevelyan, Bull was taller but he was hardly dwarfed. She saw an archer nocking, clearly going for the tantalizing target of Bull's back. She raised her own bow. The pain reached a new sharper crescendo as she drew. The arrow went wide making an ugly scraping sound against the stone walls. The archer inhaled, he intended to make the shot count. He was mid exhale when his whole upper body froze. She could trust Cole to shatter it. Trevelyan released her own breath, turning back towards her qunari ally.

The tornado that was the two adversaries was, unfortunately, headed in her direction. She rolled away as Bull's broad back slammed into the wall where she was. Several more bricks joined those on the floor. Cole had begun to dart in and out of the fray, usually unharmed and always with blood on his daggers. But it was plain to Trevelyan's eyes that the wounds he did take were of heavy consequence. She slowly drew her bow, doing her best to ignore the screaming nerves. Neither could get the distance needed for a proper swing at the other. They were constantly turning, like dueling snakes.

Trevelyan relaxed her bow. She had to allow things to play out for now. There was too much potential for harm if she loosed an arrow. Solas's magic was wearying him, the frost leaching the strength from the Avvar's muscles. The decisive moment blindsided them all. A small misstep on the part of the enemy and bull had the shaft of his axe to his throat. He still had the strength to fight back, was putting up a decent resistance. He struck Bull on the temple, having been forced to abandon his weapon. Then Cole struck for the last time. The first dagger plunged through the giant man's cheek. He screamed and sputtered on his blood until the second went straight through his eye.

The mire was quiet again.

Everyone else was on the floor panting; it was Solas who removed the key from the giant body. He dragged Trevelyan by the uninjured arm to the locked door. They needed to see that it was their Inquisitor that saved them. They were jubilant; she tried to make it unobvious that she was in tremendous pain. She happily lowered herself onto one of the benches they vacated. It was the cleanest thing she'd seen in the mire. Solas was tending to Bull and the captives' various injuries. Cole walked through the crowd of soldiers unnoticed to sit beside her.

"I'm glad. You will be too when you're hurting less." She gave him a wan smile. Twisting to face him completely she surveyed the blood staining the mismatched cloth that was his clothing.

"I need to remember I'm not the only who's hurting." Cole forwent a response instead leaning forward to press his brow against hers. A mimicry of her affectionate gesture last night she realized. Through her most –only- genuine smile of the day Trevelyan ordered that he get in line with the other soldiers so Solas could soothe his injuries.

"That will be unnecessary Inquisitor. I am here." After a few sluggish moments she threw herself to the edge of the bench. She realized how it must have looked from the doorway, especially with Cole's damn hat further obscuring view. He began immediately on Cole's wounds, but very openly and intensely stared at Trevelyan.

"Pulling on the dog's tail. Stealing pastries from the kitchen. Charcoal strokes over priceless paint. There is anger filtered through cracks in the disappointment." She would've laughed were she not rendered entirely speechless. All the other times in her life she received the dad stare that was currently being leveled on her.

Upon returning to Skyhold Trevelyan spent her second night in a row staring into the darkness of her room red faced.


	3. Chapter 3

Transparent. That's how Trevelyan felt skulking around Skyhold. Essentially her own castle and there she was, dashing about like a nug about to be eaten by…well anything. Everything eats nugs.

A hand came to rest firmly on her lower back. She yelped. Right there in the middle of the Great Hall. She prayed the various nobles and dignitaries didn't her recognize her out of her royal inquisitor pajamas.

"Ah geez Marbles!" She whipped around to see the upper half of Varric's face. Gazing a little lower he looked amused, annoyed, and concerned all at once. "Look, you've been prowling about all day. Got me so on edge I'm starting to grind my teeth. Let's go for a walk okay?" The look he gave her made it clear it was not actually a question. His hand went again to her lower back, strong and warm, as he guided her out of the hall into the sunlight. She gave one last look over her shoulder. Towards one dreaded door in particular.

They ended up slowly walking the ramparts. "So what happened in the mire? I didn't so much as get a glimpse of you last night before Josephine informed all the nobles that the Inquisitor had retired for the evening." Trevelyan wrinkled her nose. "Varric, it's called the Fallow Mire, which really should be all the explanation I need."

The wind played with his hair but the Dwarf's expression remained unmoved. He learned quickly that if you didn't buy into her bullshit it was only a matter of time until she cracked. That she was uninvolved in any business dealings was a blessing to the Inquisition's coffers.

"It's just," She made an exasperated noise. "It's like I'm not supposed to be a person? But I am. A ridiculous one." Caught between wild gesticulations and cradling her head, Varric would pretend he didn't notice that she slapped herself across the face. "With the hole in my shoulder it's been decided we can hold off on the journey to Adamant a whole day." Her hands clenched on the word 'whole.' Gauze was wrapped from her shoulder to her elbow. "Like this either I'm going to die or a lot of people are going to die for me.

"Alright," Varric remained unruffled. He had his fair share of experience playing the role of confidante. "But how does that relate to you hiding from Chuckles?"

"Oh…you noticed that." "I noticed everything." He gave a cocky wink.

"Well in the mire-" "See? I'm also always right." "Let me finish." As she rambled on about what transpired, her voice got quieter and quieter until Trevelyan was essentially whispering in Varric's ear. "And now Solas thinks I kissed Cole and I am very, very afraid." Varric gave a mediocre attempt at stifling his laughter. Before long he was gasping for breath and a few tears had left wet trails to his jaw. By the time his breathing returned to normal Trevelyan was flushed to her neck.

"I haven't laughed that hard since Kirkwall." He took large gulps of air as he wiped the moisture from his face. "It's not funny. You didn't see the look in his eyes." "You haven't seen him _today_. He's been ransacking the library since dawn. Sparkler is ready to challenge him to a duel." His lips settled into a smirk. "I think you're in for a lecture Marbles."

To Trevelyan that didn't sound so terrible actually. "I like when Solas teaches me." All of the more seasoned couriers knew that, when looking for the Inquisitor, it was a safe bet they'd find her cross legged listening to one of the elven apostate's anecdotes. Varric shook his head, his hair catching the afternoon light much like his golden earring.

"I hate to say but I think you might've pissed him off." He held Bianca in his arms and sat with his back against the wall. The Inquisitor joined him on the floor feeling sick with a potent mix of dread and curiosity.

"Remember the Exalted Plains? Chuckles would have killed those mages if we hadn't stepped him." Her nose wrinkled. It was not something she would likely ever forget. Despite the desire to. Sola's friend had appeared to her like any other Pride demon. In her head she had already decided they were too late to help. The mocking laughter was the same as well. His voice stopped her as she reached for an arrow from her quiver.

"Inquisitor, please!" It was the first time he had been anything but a wise guide to Trevelyan. She put her trust in him, enduring the shocks and burns as her arrows turned to the binding statues instead of the demon.

"What about the mages?" She grumbled with crossed arms.

"Well, he's got every reason to be all paranoid and shit about people abusing demons."

"Abuse?!" She sputtered. "He thinks I kissed Cole. Not that I shivved him!" She went mouthy with indignation. "How many times has he said that Cole is special?" Her ranting quickly lost coherence. After much fuming, she went silent with a slight trembling to her lip and a stubborn set to her jaw.

"Firstly, I can't handle crying humans. If you need a shoulder the commander's office is right over there." He jerked a thumb to the left. Cullen's affection for the Inquisitor was something of an open secret. "Secondly, I'm speculating, and I don't have a great track record when it comes to fathoming the thoughts of apostates." Trevelyan couldn't resist giving the dwarf a half hug. Varric didn't particularly want the pity but she was obviously more comfortable fretting over others than herself.

He stood and holstered Bianca. Unfortunately she was right about one thing. Adamant would be bloody. And yes, some men's' lives would be lost for the sake of her own. He silently decided to slip away early during dinner for privacy at one of the shrines to Andraste scattered throughout Skyhold. And after that…

"Look, I'll try to keep our resident grumpy apostate busy for the rest of the day. After that I hardly expect he'll have the opportunity to lecture at you for hours on end while we're marching for Adamant." She smiled so fiercely he noticed for the first time a rather pronounced pair of canines.

He couldn't deny himself a last bit of fun as he began to walk away. "Sooo…did you?" "Did I what?" His gigantic, shit eating smirk wasn't visible to her. "Did you really lay one on the kid?" A shriek that was probably a 'no' and a symphony of other indignant noises followed Varric down the rampart stairs.

The pair had never occurred to him, at least not in any romantic way, but he had been surprised by his distinct lack of surprise when she had said she'd kissed Cole (that Solas _thought _she'd kissed Cole). 'It would make a good story.' The dwarf mused to himself.

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><p>Rare was the morning Solas didn't wake refreshed from his wanderings in the Fade. But even there he had been plagued by the possibility of disaster. It was not Adamant he was vexing over. At no point so far had the day shown improvement. It was with a quiet smoldering determination he began to scour the Inquisition's library. He took any volumes that looked as though they might've had even the most tenuous connection to spirits and their corruption. He and the Inquisitor had shared words on such things before, he hoped a new phrasing was all it took for her to see sense...<p>

He would admit the argument with Dorian was largely his own doing.

"Ah! Look who has seen fit to show himself among us mere mortals!" Dorian gave a quick bow with all of his typical flourish. There was nothing but friendliness in his eyes despite the jest.

Solas didn't find Dorian unlikeable, just perhaps a bit too easy to read. He could see why Dorian had attempted a friendship with him. Both mages, ostensibly anti-circle, and with few in the way of close companions. Despite his being so _Tevinter _Solas generally attempted to be polite if not friendly with Dorian. But that was not going to happen on such an awful morning.

"I find myself quite thankful for the 'mortal' part. Had the Imperium stolen that secret along with all the rest we'd likely have more than one immortal magister wreaking havoc on Thedas." Dorian veiled his hurt by reacting with all the vitriol of a wyvern with a toothache.

Thus began a pattern of the two mages trading slights while Solas scanned titles. Solas would descend the stairs to add to the growing pile on his desk while Dorian would take a quick swig from his wine bottle. They would continue once Solas returned. The two were interrupted by no less than three couriers asking if he knew the Inquisitor's whereabouts. Solas supposed it silly of himself to not expect her avoidance.

By silent agreement the two mages ceased quarreling for a late lunch. All of the tomes left Solas hardly enough room for his meal. He was of course, too preoccupied to enjoy his meal. The Inquisitor was an open minded young woman, and as such Solas and she had gotten on well from the start. At first she had sought him out with question of her mark and the Breech. Unsurprising. But then she continued to visit his corner of Haven with all manner of new questions regarding demons, spirits, and the Fade. Some, Solas felt, showed her to be a rather thoughtful individual. And then the incident in the Mire arose to challenge such opinions. It seemed ludicrously out of character for the young woman as he knew her. How could she not see how a relationship with Cole would be taking advantage? He took another bite of his food to find it greasy and long cold. No matter how he looked at it Cole simply didn't have the tools to understand.

Solas suddenly felt glad for the Inquisitor's avoidance. He considered himself eloquent when he needed to be but he really didn't know where to start with her given the chance. He would speak with Cole first. Find out what happened and what he understood. Solas considered the boy's body a fascinating quirk. Beyond that he found Cole not very unlike other spirits. Compassion. It seemed such a fragile thing.

'How little it would take to pervert it.' He brooded to himself.

"Dinner that bad?" Called Varric's distinctive voice from the door.

"Actually it was my lunch." Solas's steady voice juxtaposed the pathetic statement. Suddenly he became aware of the sunset glow all around him. Varric gave an exaggerated "Tsk tsk" and folded his arms. "What say you we get you something hot from the tavern before you end up as skinny as every other elf I've met?" Solas had every intention of rejecting the offer in as pleasant a manner as possible before Varric withdrew a deck of cards from one of his many pockets. "And then I take every sovereign to your name?" Blackwall must've let slip Solas's aptitude for cards. Shocking really, if it were Solas he wouldn't have admitted to a soul that he lost his clothing in a game of diamondback.

"Well it would certainly be a pleasant diversion from my current ruminations." Solas had a thought. Varric watched the elf as he worked his jaw. He came to a decision with an audible sigh. 'Varric's voice certainly carried anyway.' He gestured for the dwarf to wait before striding up the stairs.

Dorian sat at a table, still drinking –drowning in- his wine. His face pinched a bit at the sight of Solas. His tongue was a viper in an enamel cage.

"Varric has invited me to a game of cards. Would you care to join us?" While the insults Solas made at the Imperium were both factual and sincere, Dorian didn't deserve to be the sole bearer of his ire. That he had not once called him a 'knife ear' or anything of the like in the face of such venom was a credit to Dorian's character.

"That depends," Dorian toyed with his mustache. "Will your gold be something else Tevinter stole from the elves?" Solas's smirk was irrepressible. "No but I shall consider yours reparations."

The group the made quickly (with some wobbling on Dorian's part) to the tavern to back up their boasts with coin.

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><p><strong>I should let anyone reading this know that thanks to a gag X-mas gift, the rough drafts for chapters 3 and beyond are being written in a MLP diary.<strong>

**This chapter is more of a set up for the future than anything in itself. Mostly Cuz Varric and Dorian ran away with it.**

**I really would love some more reviews, I would like to know whats good, what needs work, etc.**


	4. Chapter 4

Cole didn't like it. Normally he listened but never touched, _was_ never touched. Even the fever pitch of emotion seething like a storm over Skyhold, loud as it was, so loud that Cole thought his ears might waste away, even that didn't touch him.

But this itched, burned and needled like rats in the dark nibbling on fingers and toes. He had done his very best to ignore it. Then even scoured his skin with angry marks from short dirty nails. It didn't help. The itch had nothing to do with Cole's body. He felt fat drops of blood welling up on his neck before trickling down to further stain his shirt. It was not the distraction he might've hoped.

Helping seemed to him a lot like what food was to real people. He didn't feel much about it, aside from a need before and contentment after. But helping required focus. Something the itchy burning disallowed the spirit boy.

He tried. They would go glassy eyed, right in the middle of him picking words from air like fickle fruit that may or may not be ripe. Some eyes would not be caught in the first place. As he was he had no great capacity for hate. But he hated this as much as he had anything.

'Or anyone.' The thought came unbidden. It was not dwelled on, as he had more pressing annoyances than a worrying thought that may or may not have been his own. Loud thoughts were in the habit of letting themselves in.

He stalked back to the tavern, to his place; just moments after sunset fully gave way to night. Typically he would help those waking or not late into the night. He was so focused on the awful side effects of the maddening sensation he realized only slowly that it had begun to change. That with every step toward the tavern it was less persistent annoyance and more continuously renewed scorching.

Varric, Dorian, and Solas were seated together. Solas's pile of winnings was the largest by far. Meanwhile a couple of empty wine bottles served as a barrier to keep Dorian's cards from Varric's eyes. Solas, of course, was the first to notice Cole enter. He appeared ready to abandon his current company to join him.

"C'mere kid!" Varric had been just a moment later in seeing him. The young man sat with his elders mechanically; visions of thousands of needles danced about inside his skull.

"I do hope you had a proper bath after that mire business." Dorian remarked unfazed by Cole's sudden appearance. He was also too inebriated to pick up on the sudden tension.

Cole stood back up almost immediately. He took a few steps back. One forward. He moved to the right of the card players. To the left. His eyes weren't visible by the candlelight of the tavern but his face was always toward the three.

Bull, in his own little corner, had stopped mid-sentence to watch the spectacle, his giant flagon still poised for a drink.

"Friggen weirdo!" A certain blonde elf jeered from above. Most other that could witness the spectacle dismissed it as another strange act of the boy from the rafters. It was not.

"It's you Solas!" Accused Cole with a hysterical sharpness. Varric hid his flinch y by organizing his coin pile.

"What is me Cole?" Solas' back was straight and his hands were folded upon each other. He spoke in calm, even tones.

"Burning me!" He only became more frantic. "Ants marching through veins. They want out. They're screaming. They scream words that ache and itch." Cole's fingers curled into his hair. He brought his chest to his knees crouching in the middle of the tavern. Everyone saw him now but he would bleed in and out of focus from one moment to the next. They would forget anyway.

Varric and Solas had both gone to his side. They each had an arm and were taking up to his usual corner. Cole was scarcely aware. Upon realizing the source of the pain it changed. He could hear the words and thoughts behind it. Solas'. They sat him gently down in the darkness.

He understood. This hurt couldn't go cleanly through Cole because it was _about_ Cole. It had begun to lessen. It was like being struck by birds' wings as they flew by. He had never been so out of breath in his life. Not fighting, or running, or even back in the Spire when he thought for the thousandth time that maybe Rhys had forgotten and his breath would catch. Even so he met Solas' eyes.

"Why would she hurt me?" That seemed to take the last of his strength. He curled up childishly on the attic floor. He fell asleep with alarming speed, his hat on his face blocked out what little light there may have been.

Varric pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Care to explain just what in blazes that was about?"

"It would be only speculation." Solas remained outwardly calm through the whole event.

"Let's get another round of drinks and then you can speculate away." Varric was already heading back down the stairs. Solas soon followed after a long look at Cole watching his steady breathing.

Soon all three men had new drinks and Solas was fervently explaining his thoughts to Dorian and Varric. If one listened very closely, under all the bullshit you could hear Solas admitting that essentially Cole picked up on Solas' own anxiety over the kid. Like a horse or something. After listening to what he felt were more technical details than strictly necessary Varric halted the lecture.

"Okayyy," He ignored the dirty look he received for interrupting. "But what you haven't told us is why you're up in knots over the kid." He knew, but letting Solas hang over it seemed like fun. Dorian's eyes were practically sparkling with curiosity.

"I am concerned with what could result in a compromise in the purity of Cole as a spirit." Varric's toes curled in his boots with the strain of not laughing. As a writer he had made some seriously poor word choices but with that Chuckles had him beat by a mile.

"And what is it exactly that is threatening the kid's," A snicker escaped. "purity." Solas looked from one man to the other. Both liked the Inquisitor (as did he of course) and neither had half his knowledge of spirits. He doubted his feelings on the subject would be met with any agreement.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan." Dorian managed just barely to not choke. Varric just smiled.

"You-you actually think-"Dorian floundered, not half enough sober to consider such a ridiculous notion as the Inquisitor being some dastardly corrupting force. "What that she's a blood mage or some such nonsense?"

"No. She is not a mage. However…" And at that moment even the seemingly unflappable Solas couldn't prevent a certain amount of discomfort. "I saw the two share a kiss after that last battle in the Mire." Varric, of course, wasn't surprised. Dorian looked entirely underwhelmed.

"No you didn't." An elven brow rose at Varric's flippancy. It was frustrating. If Cole were just an average young man Solas wouldn't have cared.

"She told me what happened." Solas flushed with displeasure.

"Do you think she could lie about something like this? To me?" Varric continued in an atypically intense manner. The apostate paused. He trusted the self-proclaimed 'compulsive liar' to be able to tell if someone as guileless as the Inquisitor was being honest. Solas relaxed for the first time all day in his tavern chair. Whether from relief or resignation was unclear.

"Okay you've had your turns. I do believe I get to say my piece now." Dorian sounded more sober than he had in hours. Solas might've just left but he had already wronged Dorian once that day, and frankly he was just too tired to move at that moment.

"Whether they've kissed or not isn't important. There is something there and I don't think for a moment that you," he pointed a finger right in Varric's face. "Haven't noticed. So don't try to calm this one," then he pointed the other one at Solas "by saying nothing happened or we'll end up with this mess all over again once something does." The Altus had an uncanny knack for ruining the peace of others. But he also had a point. Dwarf and elf both stood to leave thinking that was all he had to say, but Dorian slammed both hands on the tavern table and they sat back down. There was no point in leaving when Dorian got like this. Riled as he was he'd just follow them anyway.

"Whether something has happened or not isn't the problem." His chin came to rest on his palm. "In fact I don't see a problem at all." He spoke rapidly then wanting to make his whole argument before Solas proceeded to cut it down.

"You have this whole scenario in that bald head of yours where our beloved Inquisitor corrupts the poo innocent spirit. Just what have you found in her that is corrupt? You are speaking of the same woman who refuses to wear nug skin because 'they have enough predators as it is.' To think of the Inquisitor as a corrupting force…that kind of thinking undermines the whole reason we're here." He took a quick gasp of air.

"You're under the impression that you're the only one that can so much as look at a spirit without leaving it tainted." Then his eyes went softer. Always so easy to read.

"I'm sorry what happened to your friend." Solas' lips thinned.

"But if you think she's anything like those mages then…no," He punctuated with a shake of his head. An exaggerated one like you might expect of a child mid tantrum.

"Then you're just mad…" He trailed off. Dorian sat down unable to recall when exactly he had stood. They sat in silence as Solas and Varric digested his words.

It spoke to the depth of their thoughts when Bull managed to sneak up on them.

"Look all that warm, syrupy crap is great but we march in the morning and I'm not carrying anyone." He walked out the tavern door without another word intent on getting some sleep. Looking around the only company the trio had was the bartender who clearly just wanted to go to bed and those that had fallen asleep on their cups.

Solas was the last out of the door. He felt incredibly weary at the sight of the torch lined stairs leading to the Great Hall.

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><p><strong>I've been sitting on this chapter for a little bit. I was really sick for a while there and then the semester started.<strong>

**Honestly every single chapter I've put up I've been like "It sucks I hate it." But this one even more so because it's a lot of dialogue with very little happening.**

**So I finally got my copy of Asunder. I always knew there was a lot more to Cole than we saw in the game, but holy shit, get a copy if you can. There's so much emotion and intelligence in that boy.**

**So in one of the reviews the idea of an "M" rating was brought up (wink wink nudge nudge) and if I have any reservations with that it's only because I'm unsure how well i could write that. Are people very interested in such a thing? Drop a line peeps lemme know,****I got dat inbox.**


	5. Chapter 5

Adamant first appeared as a black speck interrupting the golden waves of the Western Approach. Whoops and hollers rippled through the ranks of soldiers as they saw it. Especially loud ones from the teams that were hauling the different components of the unassembled battering rams.

Not the wisest idea considering the Inquisition's forces clung to rock formations and dips in the sand dunes so as to not give the Grey Wardens and the assumed demon horde advance warning. Though the point was moot, all that was left was the final flat stretch between their army and the gates of Adamant. The final respite lasted until the sun was high in the sky, unprofessional perhaps but Fereldans were about as accustomed to sand as they were sea.

Trevelyan led the forces with Cullen to her left. She couldn't help but wonder if his stalwart bearing left her somewhat lacking in comparison. Most others were more preoccupied with the question of his sanity as his fur cape still rested on his shoulders.

It was mere minutes into their march before both their eyes and noses were dripping with sweat. As those minutes grew into hours the fortress remained stubbornly on the horizon line and the sun just as stubbornly in the sky.

Trevelyan's inner circle drew around her as a matter of course. She felt less inclined to suffer in silence after Sera started bitching about the "arse blistering heat" and the boots she had been forced to wear by the scorching sand. Vivienne granted them a small mercy with the occasional icy chill. She verbally took no credit but her smile looked a shade more self-satisfied than usual. Trevelyan's throat seized with thirst at the sight of the canteen Cole held out to her. He was unreservedly delighted by her profuse thanks.

The shadows were long before they drew close enough to assemble the battering ram. The dunes looked like a sea of black and gold at a distance. Light arrow fire was exchanged in sporadic burst between the Inquisition and the Wardens.

It wasn't until wood shattered against wood that things became chaotic. Mages scattered throughout the ranks concentrated on keeping barriers erected against (now flaming) salvos of arrows and enemy spells. The colorful clashes of opposing magic were brutally beautiful. Orders were shouted by both sides until they bled into one continuous roar punctured by screaming and metallic twangs.

Trevelyan swayed like a drunk as she and her team navigated the melee. She had little opportunity to fire her bow flanked by both her companions and an honor guard put together by Cullen. Directions were yelled and pointed but mostly she was herded by the circle of bodies protecting her. One man was pounced upon by a demon. His armor seemed to make little difference to the wild slashing of its claws. She didn't recognize his face nor did she have the slightest recollection his name. He died quickly and she couldn't help but notice how the slate grey of his air matched almost perfectly the stonework of the fortress. The demon met its retribution quickly at the hands of his comrades.

Trevelyan stood dumbly until Cassandra's shield pushed at her back to urge her forward.

She found herself looking anywhere but forward. Her eyes ceaselessly tracked the bodies that littered the halls she was ushered through.

After what felt both too quickly and an endless amount of time her group halted as one as they came upon an open plaza. The wardens were on a lower level gathered around a large rift, save Clarel who stood next to Erimond above them. Both sides immediately began to unsheathe weapons.

Trevelyan hurled herself past her honor guard and shook off fingers grasping to pull her back to safety. Her throat tightened like a bowstring.

"Please!" Her voice cracked but cut and for the moment at least the warriors stilled. She couldn't even bear to stand any longer. The salty tracks on her cheeks felt uncomfortable as her face contorted. She was a little girl collapsed on the floor.

"No more blood should be spilled! In battle or otherwise!" Her ears pounded in time to the blood dripping from the dagger in the Warden Commander's hand.

"You want to bring an end to the darkspawn." As her gaze swept across them as many stared back defiantly as avoided her eyes. "Even if you did the rest of the world would burn along with the deep roads." The Inquisitor's tears were a light pitter patter between her knees on the cobblestone.

"Enough!" Erimond said derisively. He looked down at Trevelyan with undisguised disgust.

"This is the 'Herald of Andraste?' A sniveling girl with one hand outstretched and the other gripping a sword." He looked as though he was ready to snort were such an action not so very beneath him. Clarel was as stone, her knuckles white gripping the dagger she used to slay an old friend.

Clarel and Trevelyan's eyes locked despite the distance. The Warden Commander was shocked to feel the burn of unshed tears as she watched the Inquisitor's own run flow freely.

"Please brothers, sisters! Your own sense of duty has been used against you." Stroud stood tall next to Trevelyan, only subtly forward of her to serve as protection. She rubbed the tracks of her tears away. He gloves left smears of dirt and blood in replacement. She rose with trembling colt's legs.

"Clarel! Did Erimond tell you of his master? Did he tell you of Corypheus?" Trevelyan spoke in as even a tone as she could muster. In turn Clarel's eyes bore into the magister as though she intended to run him through with her glare alone.

"Corypheus? How does the Inquisitor even know that name?" If Clarel had begun the day with any sense of control she had lost it then.

"She plays mind games using those renegade wardens of hers!" Came his feeble (but loud) reply. It was clear to most that, as decisively as a lightning strike, Erimond had just lost the wardens.

Trevelyan paid little mind to Dorian's muted snipes at the magister who's grip on reality was becoming visibly more tenuous. With an animalistic noise he banged his staff upon the stone ground as though he were a judge with his gavel. The responding shriek sent shudders through the wardens and hysterics through those Inquisition troops whom were familiar with the dreadful wail's origins.

Clarel alone was the first to dare attack the putrescent dragon perched upon a tower. An arc of lightning jolted through its quarter. Blackened hide and flesh fell away, even to reveal bone, but the Archdemon behaved uninjured. Though very much pissed off. It spat its own crackling energy at Clarel and took flight to pursue her when she fled.

The Inquisitor took off with all the speed of a bat out of hell. She sped through the thick smoke left by the dragon's attack heedless of the allies she left behind. Only the smallest fraction of thought was spared to consider just exactly how awful an action that was. When her vision cleared Hawke alone was keeping stride next to her.

"Hurry!" He admonished, insultingly unfazed by the dead sprint they were maintaining. A hiss unheard past the chaos around them whistled through her teeth when he grabbed her by the forearm, his speed increased, yanking her by her recovering limb. They skidded around corners and Hawke's spells were overkill against the demons they encountered.

The pair rounded a half crumbled pillar to see Clarel trapped with her back to the still smoldering remains of a bridge. More stones broke away from the edge with every step the Archdemon prowled forward. It was close enough for its rank breath to stir the Warden Commander's robes. Its claws left deep gouges as its inferno eyes gave the cornered woman her own personal glimpse into hell.

As far as Trevelyan was concerned its hide became peppered with arrows straight from the Fade. She looked at the bow in her hands as if it were a traitor. As it turned to the Inquisitor the Archdemon's tail swept at Clarel. Her taxed body went sprawling; she came to a stop a scant few inches from the abyss.

Hawke and Trevelyan were shoulder to shoulder. Her bow was knocked and Hawke's magic was the slightest touch of will away from manifesting.

The dragon reared back to bear down upon them. Before it could crush them a dagger flew from the shadows. The glinting silverite disappeared into its maw and down its throat.

"It looked bigger in the Fade." Cole commented without preamble standing well within what would be labelled Trevelyan's personal space. The Archdemon flung its head back and forth to dislodge the dagger dousing the surrounding area in a rancid black ichor. Its feral thrashing sent stone tumbling and flying through the air.

"Cole, go get Clarel!" Trevelyan shouted to be heard over the building toppling around them. It looked like a crazed dance. He moved in a mix of long leaps and stuttering hops; Cole seemed to just know which stones would hold and which would fall away.

Meanwhile Hawke and the Inquisitor stood in the middle of what seemed the end of the world. The world shifted under their feet and the beating of the Archdemon's wings generated hurricane force winds. She ended up slamming into Hawke his armor leaving her with several minor cuts and bruises. His arm wrapped around her small frame. Cole was holding Clarel up in a similar fashion. Without a staff to channel through her magic amalgamated in an outstretched palm. It built steadily. Trevelyan could hear the warden's lips moving but the words could not be heard over the surrounding cacophony.

Trevelyan expected the energy to be hurled at the dragon. That is not what happened. The bridge under the dragon simply ceased to exist in the face of the concentrated magical energy. Both broken halves fell into each other creating an extreme "V." And what Hawke would later refer to as "a murder slide." He and the Inquisitor went rolling like children down a steep hill. Cole resisted more elegantly but weighed down by Clarel's prone form he too succumbed to the death trap.

It felt like the burst of adrenaline one gets when suddenly seeing a face in the dark. With her heart thrumming in her ears the mark upon her hand exploded. The green energy coalesced between her and the abyss. She felt a resistance before breaking through the green, as if she'd just broken through some sort of membrane.

It was an accurate description of the Veil.

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><p><strong>Well this took forever. It's annoying to write an event so closely to how it actually happened, feels so confining y'know. Also Bioware's other series, Mass Effect has been running my life. Poor impulse control means I'll probably end up writing something for that too.<strong>

**Hope you liked it.**


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